


One bed but more than one problem

by Ereana



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Friendship, Hinata messes up, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, One bed fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:21:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27560671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ereana/pseuds/Ereana
Summary: There is only one bed in the room.Hinata blinks. He rubs his eyes and pinches the inside of his wrist.It gives him something to focus on apart from the single piece furniture taking up the entirety of the room and the fact that Atsumu has been giving him the cold shoulder for the past four weeks.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou & MSBY Black Jackals, Hinata Shouyou/Miya Atsumu
Comments: 24
Kudos: 163





	One bed but more than one problem

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PaleRose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaleRose/gifts), [vanellabean11](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanellabean11/gifts).



There is only one bed in the room.

Hinata blinks. He rubs his eyes and pinches the inside of his wrist.

The number of beds does not increase.

Swearing internally  — a mix of all the Brazilian and Japanese curses that he knew  — he wonders if Sakusa knew about this. Who is he kidding, of course Sakusa knew about this, probably even orchestrated it along with a few of the more meddlesome members of the team (i.e. Bokuto and Inunaki). 

He checks his watch, way too late to request a room change, and he’s not going to be the dick who causes a fuss at the service desk. He’s been stuck on a coach for six gruelling hours, and unlike previous journeys, this one hadn’t been alleviated by jokes and good conversation. No, this journey had been full of awkward tension and side glances, at least for Hinata anyway.

Who knew that one piece of furniture could create such an aura of tension?

He’d rather face Yachi two days before the deadline of an important project running entirely on coffee than the simple double bed in front of him. The bed which seems to take up mythic proportions in the room.

It’s not an ugly bed or anything, it looks sturdy and the sheets are a nice cream and blue. Perfectly suitable for a night’s rest that his body is crying out for. 

But…

He looks over at Atsumu. The other man is staring stone faced at the bed, the only sign of tension in how high he holds his shoulders. After nearly two years together on the same team, Hinata thought he’d had a pretty good grasp on his setter’s moods, but as has been the usual these past four weeks, he can’t get a read on what the other is thinking.

Is Atsumu cursing their teammates as well? Is he going to request a room swap? Is he going to ask to bunk with someone else for tonight and let Hinata have the big comfy room all to himself, alone for the night once again.

Maybe he’ll tell Hinata to take the couch. It’s small, but he could probably squish into it with a blanket and fall asleep. He should probably offer that anyway; this whole thing between them was his fault anyway.

“I can take the couch if —”

“So what do ya wanna —”

Their voices falter at the simultaneous interruption, and for the first time since they got on the bus Atsumu looks at him. Except he doesn’t, not really, he looks at a spot past Hinata’s head instead, and Hinata is vividly aware that Atsumu is avoiding him even when they’re the only two people in the room.

He looks haggard, tired in a way that can’t solely be blamed on a cross country bus trip, and Hinata’s heart aches. 

It’s his fault that Atsumu looks like that, and he wishes more than anything that he knew how to make it better. 

He coughs and forces a smile. “Sorry, uhh what were you going to say, Atsumu-san?”

Atsumu shrugs and runs his thumb across the black bag strap over his left shoulder. “Just gonna ask what ya wanna do about that, Hinata-kun.” And points to the bed.

_ Hinata-kun. _

Funny how the sound of his name cuts deeper than any of the forced, stilted conversations they’ve had recently. 

It shows how badly he’s fucked this up.

He doesn’t think Atsumu has ever called him by his last name before, skipped right over propriety in that first fateful match they shared, and he’s been Shouyou-kun ever since. He never knew how much hearing his own name could sting. Is he meant to reciprocate and call Atsumu  _ ‘Miya-san’ _ now? He doesn’t think he can. Atsumu is Atsumu and to call him anything else feels false.

Atsumu is still looking past him, waiting for a reply. Hinata does his best to formulate a response.

“Well, I was going to offer to take the couch,” he says, turning his attention back to the most recent problem in his life. The bed stands there, mockingly.

Atsumu snorts and shakes his head. “Ya must be jokin’. Ya really think you’ll be in any condition to play after a night spent on that thing? We’d be shootin’ ourselves in the foot.”

The momentary giddiness from the implication of his importance to the team is swifty washed away by his own exhaustion. Hinata doesn’t want to argue, he wants to bunk down for the night and wake up fresh and ready for tomorrow’s match against the Red Falcons. 

He wants to wake up back in a world where Atsumu is his friend, and he hasn’t screwed up one of the best relationships he’s ever had.

“Well, what do you suggest then?” He asks, for half a second he feels the words  _ ‘Miya-san’ _ on the tip of his tongue. He wonders how Atsumu would react if he did, if he’d feel a stand of hurt or if it would be a relief that Hinata was backing off. “Want me to share with Omi-san or Bokuto-san for the night?”

He might have to stop himself from throttling them both for arranging this, but he’ll leave in a heartbeat if Atsumu asks him to. Never mind the small voice in his head that really doesn’t want to. He has no right to ask that.

Atsumu shakes his head. “I think Omi-kun would kill ya if you went at this hour, everyone else is probably asleep by now.”

“So what should we do?” Hinata asks again. There is one solution that sprung to mind the second he walked through the door and four weeks ago he wouldn’t have hesitated to suggest it. 

This is not four weeks ago though.

He hears Atsumu huff and wonders if this is the moment where he’s told to get another room for himself.

“We share it.”

What?

Hinata whips his head back round to stare at Atsumu, suddenly wide awake with his heartbeat pounding in his ears. He imagined that, right? No way did Atsumu just say what he thought he did. This is just the wistful imaginings of his heart and what Atsumu actually said was more along the lines of ‘get out’.

Atsumu walks forward, shrugging the bag off his shoulder onto the floor before unzipping it with a single smooth motion and reaching inside. His face is still set in that oddly blank mask, and Hinata is struck by the urge to crack it.

“I said we share it, we’re both adults so it ain’t a big deal or nothin’. I’m gonna take a shower now, I’ll make sure to leave ya some hot water.” And with that, like he hasn’t just struck Hinata speechless, he heads for the bathroom and locks the door behind him with a click.

Alone, Hinata slumps back against the door and buries his head in his hands. He isn’t sure if he wants to scream or cry. 

How did it end up like this?

Was there something he should have done but didn’t?

How long before this spilled onto the court? The only silver lining right now was that on the court nothing had changed. On the court Atsumu smiled at him and clapped him on the back. He sent him perfect tosses, and Hinata always spiked them with everything he had. Their quick was sharper than ever, and in those moments when he would catch Atsumu’s eyes as he jumped to meet it, he would see the hunger and passion that matched his own, and his blood would sing.

_ It’s you. You match me. Send me another and I’ll show you again. _

Atsumu would send him another, and there wasn’t a sweeter feeling in the world then soaring over the tall wall in front of him with the wings that Atsumu leant him.

It was almost normal.

But then the match would end, and they’d go back to  _ this.  _ Hinata on one side of a door and the man he loved on the other unable to even look at him.

Loved.

It would be easy to wish that those feelings had never developed. But wishing was hollow, and despite everything, he couldn’t bring himself to regret falling for Atsumu.

It had all been so simple when he’d returned to Japan, two years of Brazil in his bones and confident with the knowledge that he was finally ready to stand at the starting line with the rest of the other monsters of his generation.

He’d walked into those tryouts not knowing what to expect but eager to take on this new challenge and prove himself to the V.League Division 1.

Truthfully it had started long before that. It had started when a seventeen year old Atsumu had pointed across the net and promised to toss to Hinata in the future. When the number one high school setter had declared him good enough, good enough to stand on the court by himself without Kageyama by his side. 

Even back then when he’d been impulsive and reckless, already eager for the next match, he’d recognised that this was important. Even if he’d been too giddy on adrenaline to recognise which twin had been speaking to him, those words had registered and carved out a space in his memory.

A memory of Atsumu looking at him with all the confidence of a teenager who believes he knows what the future will be. Except it turned out that Atsumu really could see into the years ahead.

That memory and the unspoken declaration that Hinata was worthy would help fuel the drive that sent him to break himself on the beaches of Brazil in order to build himself up from the dust and sand, stronger than ever before.

He wanted to play with the best, and Atsumu was a sign that the best would want to play with him. It gave him hope.

He’d walked into the gym for the Black Jackals’ tryouts, and the ball started rolling.

* * *

Deep breaths. In and out. Hinata casts his mind back to the hours of meditation spent under the sun with the soundtrack of the ocean playing gently in his ears.

Around him, the nervous voices of the other hopefuls fade into white noise. There was no point in worrying about them or their skill, all he could do was go out there and play to the best of his ability.

His phone lights up with another message, and he smiles at the twelfth  _ good luck _ he’s received so far. This one’s from Yachi and it’s bookended by cute sparkles, much nicer than the  _ don’t blow it _ from Tsukishima. Heitor and Nice have sent him a selfie of the pair of them at his old beach, both of them are beaming and holding up a sign that reads  _ Good luck, Ninja Shouyou _ in clumsy looking Japanese characters.

His heart swells with fondness, he misses both of them a lot more than he expected. Maybe he left more in Brazil than he planned to, part of Hinata Shouyou is now permanently bound to the land of sea, sand, and Samba.

Someone nudges him on the shoulder, and he puts his phone away. Coach Foster is a friendly looking man who welcomes them all to the first day of tryouts. The tryouts will last five days in total, and looking at the schedule it’s clear that they're going to be testing every skill they have. Five days of intense volleyball at a professional level.

Hinata grins.

He can’t wait.

What really catches his attention is the activities scheduled for the fifth day. For those that are able to survive until the final day, they’ll have the opportunity to play with some of the current members of the Black Jackals. An exercise meant to see how well they connected with the established players who’d already earned their spots here.

He’d looked over the team roster before signing up, mainly to ensure that he hadn’t accidentally joined Kageyama’s team again — he wouldn’t put it past his old friend to change teams without telling him and he had no desire to rekindle their old high school partnership, this time he wanted to win. So he knew that there were three members of his generation in the team:

Sakusa Kiyoomi — their newest signing, Hinata had never played against him in high school, but he remembers watching a few games and asking Kageyama what the number three ace was like. “He’s an interesting spiker,” was all he’d gotten but the deep respect in the setter’s eyes had spoken volumes of his appreciation for Sakusa’s skill.

Bokuto Koutarou — this was a man who needed no introduction, Hinata had kept in touch with his mentor while he’d been in Brazil and was actually staying with him and Akaashi for the ten days while he attended tryouts. Bokuto was a world class player who had represented Japan at the Olympics along with Kageyama in 2016. It had been thrilling to play against him in the training camp matches, how much more fun would it be to play on the same side?

Miya Atsumu — he could admit that this last one had given him pause when he’d first read it. Hinata didn’t believe in fate or the stars or anything like that. Nothing was set in stone, you had to reach out and grab the future with your own two hands, and no one was going to hand it to you on a silver platter. 

_ I’m going to toss to ya one of these days. _

Without realising it his lips had curled into a smile.

Looks like they’d both reached out for a similar future.

The first day is relatively simple: warm-ups, drills and some practice games. He greets the other players with his customary grin and cheerful introduction. He gets a few odd looks, he’s the only player there with a sun tan, and two years in Brazil has left him with a partiality for the informal which is unusual in Japan. But most of them are friendly, all of them brimming with eagerness to get things started.

University players, members from lower division teams, a few  _ very _ optimistic third years from high school make up his fellow hopefuls, and temporary rivals, and Hinata let out a deep breath to centre himself.

Two years in Brazil, it’s all been building to this.

The assistant coach starts to put them through their paces, and Hinata trusts in his body and his skills to see him through to the end.

An image flashes briefly through his head of coach Washijo sitting on a couch staring Hinata down and asking if he could meet the expectations set before him.

The ball comes towards him, and he sends it up in a perfect receive that Noya would be proud of. He grins and feels the familiar tingle of excitement settle into his nerves. 

He’d hate to let the old man down, after all.

It was time to show them all what he’d learned.

“Nice receive!”

Hinata makes it to the final day, him and about two thirds of the initial applicants. Still so many of them, all aiming for one space, but he’s feeling pretty confident about his performance so far. There are people watching him, he can feel it and it’s not just the competition. The assistant coach, the trainers, the manager, he’s caught them all looking at him at least once.

Being watched is nothing new to him.

In middle school, he’d been the odd, whiny kid obsessed with volleyball and begging anyone to come play with him. He’d had to be loud and noticeable otherwise he wouldn’t have stood a chance. They laughed at him behind his back but they watched him, if only for their own amusement.

At Karasuno, his role as the ‘greatest decoy’ was to grab the attention of everyone on the court, seize the spotlight so that his teammates could blend into the shadows and strike with devastating strength when the moment was right. In his final year under the harsh lights of a massive stadium, the crowd had looked on as they’d clinched third place. They looked at him but took more notice of the genius setter by his side. A boy in his year but who already had one foot on an even grander stage, one that Hinata had no hope of reaching just yet.

Then came Brazil. Brazil and Rio with sun, sand, and the sea. Brazil where he’d tasted failure again and again. Where the beach players had watched him claw his way inch by inch towards his goal. He’d lost the last match he played there, lost it with Heitor by his side, except it hadn’t felt like a loss. There had been laughter, celebrations, even a splash of romance. And the friends he’d made there watched him as he learned to move on the sand.

And now the Black Jackals’ gym where they watch him compete against some of the finest fresh talent in Japan.

He doesn't want to give them any excuse to look away.

Especially today.

Hinata stands in a line with all the others, back straight and hands clasped behind him as they go through a register. The other men watch him carefully now, the raised eyebrows and badly hidden snorts disappear after the first day, unsure what to make of him and where he’s come from before suddenly appearing amongst them.

As the names are read out the doors to the gym open and in walk the players themselves. This is their gym, their home turf, and they walk with the confidence of a pack of wolves entering their den. 

Bokuto spots him instantly but doesn’t call out. Hinata had been adamant that he wanted no special treatment from his mentor. He wanted to earn his place by his own skills, not just because an old friend put in a good word for him. It had taken some persuading, and Akaashi had to step in at one point, but Bokuto had agreed not to talk about Hinata to anyone on the team.

The man had looked so upset at the prospect that Hinata had promised he could be as loud and celebratory as he wanted if he got the spot. Bokuto had perked up at that and then shot him a grin and a thumbs up.

“ _ When  _ Hinata, not  _ if, _ when you get the spot. Then I’ll get to brag about you to all of the guys!” He’d chuckled and put his hands on his hips. “I know one of them in particular’s going to be very interested to see you at tryouts.”

The last sentence had been the source of some confusion, for Hinata at least, as Akaashi had only smiled and agreed with his boyfriend. Who in the Japanese pro volleyball circuit even knew who he was? Any interest around him after high school had quickly faded when they realised that (1) he was going to another country for a significant period of time, and (2) he wasn’t a package deal with Kageyama anymore.

That second one had only confirmed his resolve to leave Japan. Anything to try and separate himself and Kageyama in people’s minds. He wanted to shine by himself not from the reflected light from someone else.

Bokuto had kept his mouth shut on who the guy was, and Hinata wondered if it was someone who’d seen his Ninja Shouyou videos online — that had been Nice’s idea, to help raise his profile as a beach player and so that he wasn’t showing up as a total nobody upon his return. They’d proved to be way more popular than he’d thought they’d be, and it always felt a little surreal when he was recognised in the streets of Rio.

One little girl had recognised him as he was delivering pizza to her house and had begged for a selfie from him before he’d left for his next stop. He was late but it had been worth it to see the sparkles in her wide brown eyes at meeting the ‘beach ninja’.

The rest of the Black Jackals look over the potentials and begin murmuring amidst themselves, clearly at least partially an act to get them nervous. Hinata reaches for his inner calm, he’s used to whispers as well.

He looks back.

Inunaku Shion was talking to Adriah Tomas, the pair of them had been on the starting line up for two years now, their heads bent close together and mumbling in what Hinata thought was possibly French.

Oliver Barnes, the two-metre offensive cannon, was smiling and nodding at the nervous hopefuls who met his gaze. After playing against Hyakuzawa in high school, Hinata knew that guys blessed with that height weren’t unbeatable, but that didn’t dim his awe at seeing one of the Jackals’ veteran players step into the room.

The captain, Meian Shugo, steps forward to stand next to the coach and offers a wave. Bokuto is brimming with energy and bouncing on his tiptoes. The only thing keeping him from jumping up and down is the firm hand of one Sakusa Kiyoomi who looks less than thrilled to be there.

Hinata turns his attention to the last member of the trio standing next to the captain, the three members of the so-called monster generation, only to blink in surprise when he sees Miya Atsumu staring right at him.

The setter looks like he’s just seen someone get hit by a truck in front of him. He’s all wide eyes and open mouth, and there’s an expression on his face that reminds Hinata of the buffering symbol when a video is loading.

He’s also hot. Like stupid hot. Like exactly Hinata’s type hot.

But those are not thoughts Hinata can indulge in at the moment, he pushes them to the back and returns his attention to the coach. Not before shooting a smile in Atsumu’s direction.

Atsumu shakes his head and rubs his eyes, still looking vaguely shell shocked, before a wide grin spreads across his face. He looks eager, excited, and Hinata feels the beast inside him stir in interest.

He still wants the best setters to toss to him, and Atsumu is certainly up there.

He remembers both matches against Inarizaki with vivid clarity, and the man looking at him is one of the reasons why.

The final day is the day that they get to play side by side with the official team. Hinata hopes he gets a chance to fulfil that old high school promise form a lifetime ago.

He does.

“Miya-san, it’s great to see you again,” Hinata says with a smile, they’ve been paired up for some basic practices before leaping into some games. He was lucky enough to be put into the group with Atsumu as a setter, and his palm itches. 

Atsumu grimaces, Hinata has half a second to worry he’s said something wrong before a finger is pointing at his nose. He nearly goes cross-eyed trying to follow it.

“Now, now none of that Shouyou-kun, just call me Atsumu like the rest of the team.” 

Hinata nods and lets his shoulders drop. “Atsumu-san it is then.” Atsumu pouts a little at the suffix and is about to reply when the coach calls him over from across the gym.

“Ah, looks like I gotta wait with the rest of the guys.” Half-lidded eyes that look deceptively lazy drop down to meet Hinata’s. His throat dries at the expectancy, the intensity, he can see burning within them. “Lookin’ forward to settin’ ta ya today, been wonderin’ how much stronger ya are.”

Hinata is used to people looking at him with doubt, underestimating him because of his height and because he’d always lacked a mastery of the basic skills needed to be a truly great player. He’s used to the ‘woahs’ and the ‘did you see thats’ from onlookers when they watch him play for the first time.

He’s always had to prove himself to someone, shatter their preconceived notions of what he could achieve on his own, and it’s always incredibly satisfying to see the look in their eyes change from dismissal to disbelief to respect — no matter how grudging in some cases.

Atsumu isn’t looking at him like that. Atsumu looks excited, and eager, and happy to see him there. Hinata had been prepared for some acknowledgement — the two matches they’d played against one another in high school were pretty memorable after all  — but not this barely contained desire to toss to him.

No other setter has ever looked at him like that. 

He watches Atsumu walk back towards the rest of the team, taking in the confidence and the body of a professional athlete who takes good care of his weapons, and feels his fingers tingle.

He left Japan to forge himself into a player that could stand next to the best setters in the world. One of them is here in this building, and Hinata is going to show him exactly what sort of monster Brazil turned him into.

If his eyes also drop and linger on Atsumu’s ass for half a second, well, he’s only human.

The coach calls for them to line up, and he moves with the rest of the hopefuls.

Game on.

The first time Atsumu sets for Hinata is during the tryouts  — he’ll do it a thousand times after and the feeling will never get old — and Hinata almost misses it.

He nearly misses it because he’s so shocked by the feeling. It’s the first point of the game as well and part of him preens about being the one chosen to open the match. The serve from the opposing team is sent up and sent neatly to where Atsumu is standing.

Hinata begins his run up.

_ Toss to me. Toss to me. Toss to me. _

The flour of the court feels so different to sand, and he knows he’s going to fly even higher than before.

_ Send me the ball, and I’ll show you what I’ve learned on the sea and surf. _

He jumps.

The ball is there.

Shock and awe crash over him, and he has a split second to regain himself before his hand smacks down.

_ WHAM. _

The ball hits the floor and Hinata lands on his feet with a stinging palm.

That….that was incredible. He couldn’t have asked for a better toss, and on the first try no less. No previous teamwork or practices, just there in a match recklessly sending a quick to someone he’s never played with before.

Fearless. Reckless. Daring.

Hinata grins, and the beast bares its fangs. This is what he’s been hunting for. He turns to his left and opens his mouth to say—

“One more.” 

Atsumu beats him to it. He’s looking directly at Hinata, and the smile on his face is a mirror image of the one on Hinata’s face.

He looks thrilled, satisfied and smug all at once.

Maybe it’s then that Hinata falls a little bit in love with him, the setter who promised and waited and asked for another before Hinata could get the words out.

Hinata nods and clenches his stinging hand into a fist.

“One more,” he echoes and returns to his position, feeling Atsumu’s eyes on his back the whole time.

He has to make the team now.

* * *

Hinata is chosen as the newest member of the Black Jackals and, of course, Bokuto insists on taking him out to celebrate. He agrees because it’s been a while since he’s had a chance to let loose. All he’s done upon returning to Japan is train to prepare for tryouts, look for accommodation, and drive his mother and sister insane with his early morning yoga sessions before he left for Osaka.

They are both morning people but apparently 6am is pushing it even for them and he was growing increasingly worried over the way Natsu handles that kitchen knife around him.

He’s hung out a few times with his old Karasuno friends — seeing the look on Tsukishima’s face when he’d given him his souvenir was hilarious, and he’ll be forever grateful to Yamaguchi for capturing it in a photo — but that’s always been during the day in quiet, polite settings like cafes or parks. 

He’s not had a proper night out since his last day in Rio for his farewell party, so he’s looking forward to it. Relief and pride on being picked make him giddy, and he needs to release some of the pent up energy.

He’s expecting something fun and relaxing, he’s not expecting to open his hotel room door and coming face to face with most of his new teammates waiting outside.

“Uh? Hi?” That’s polite right? 

Inunaki frowns and turns to Bokuto, “You did tell him we were all coming, right? And about the tradition?”

Bokuto laughs and scratches the back of his head. “I knew I’d forgotten something!” The whole team sighs, and Hinata snorts into his hand.

Atsumu shrugs his shoulders and jabs a finger at their forgetful ace. “Sorry ta drop by unannounced, Shouyou-kun. It’s tradition ta take the new guy out for drinks after he joins. We’ve all done it.”

Sakusa grumbles in the background  — Hinata swears he hears the words ‘chicken’, ‘sake’, and ‘shampoo’ — and Tomas shushes him. Meian shakes his head and gives Hinata a warm smile.

“Sorry for showing up mostly unannounced. We’d love to take you out for a celebratory drink, but really there’s no pressure.” The smirks and gazes of the other guys imply otherwise, but it’s not like Hinata was going to refuse anyway. The more the merrier, right? Plus he’s eager to interact with them outside of a professional setting, see who they were like as people and start building some bonds.

“It’s fine, I wanted to go out anyway and I still need to celebrate too.” He says and catches Bokuto relaxing from the corner of his eye. The small group perk up and Hinata funds himself summarily dragged out of his room and downstairs — in a very friendly way — and forced out into the cold night air.

A hand slings around his neck and he looks up to see Atsumu’s smiling face, the pretty boy grew up into a pretty man, and he briefly wonders what it would take to crack through that perfect image.

“So, where are we going or is the plan just to wander the streets and see what’s open?” He asks and Atsumu snorts and begins to walk down the street, his arm is still around Hinata’s neck so he dutifully moves forward, eyes locked on the man leading him onwards.

“We have a regular spot for after game celebrations and social nights. The owner’s a fan, and the food is delicious,” Inunaki calls from behind.

“He still makes us pay for our drinks though,” someone, Tomas he thinks, says which is immediately followed by the tell tale sound of a fist meeting flash. “Ow! Captain, you shouldn't use physical means to discipline the team. It's very bad for morale.”

“Your complaint has been noted and ignored.”

The team laughs and Hinata joins them, he thinks he’s going to like it here.

Two hours later he’s certain of it.

The food and drink is as excellent as promised, and the company even more so.

The Jackals are loud, boisterous, and friendly. They remind him of the best parts of Karasuno in some ways, he could easily see Barnes and Tanaka getting along, and there’s an aura around Meian that reminds him of Daichi, Ennoshita, and Yamaguchi when they wore the mantle of captain of the crows. Bokuto is Bokuto who fills the room with warmth, laughter and that special type of energy that makes you want to sit up and take part even when you’re exhausted after a long day.

It’s not only the similarities that make him smile though.

Inunaki is hilarious and tells the most insane stories — Hinata isn’t sure if he believes the one about the donkey and the vending machine, but it makes him snort into his drink, the sting of alcohol shooting up his nose doing little to contain his laughter. He learns that Tomas has played for several European teams before coming to Japan, and they share experiences of moving to an entirely new country and adapting to a completely new culture.

Hinata never played against Itatchiyama while Sakusa was part of the team, they’d only had a match against the Tokyo team in the last tournament of his third year after the ace had already graduated. He’d heard about him and seen some of his games though, and there is a part of his teenage self deep inside him that’s going fully starry eyed mode at one of the former top three high school aces. This was a player ranked stronger than Bokuto in only his second year. Sakusa hasn’t sealed a spot on the starter list yet, but it’s only a matter of time before he did.

And then there’s Atsumu, who Hinata somehow ended up sitting across from at their table. Hinata isn’t sure what to make of the setter, his interactions with the other man were limited to two — incredible — matches and their time playing together in the practice game for the tryouts. Atsumu looms in his memory as a monster of an opponent, easily standing on the same pedestal as Ushiwaka and the Grand King, and the memory of that practice game and how easily they seemed to sync up makes Hinata’s blood tingle.

The connection that flared to life with such unexpected ease, a lightning bolt striking out of a seemingly calm sky that changed the landscape in an instant.

Over an increasing pile of empty glasses, he sketches out the rest of Atsumu’s character.

He’s funny, the jokes are not all great, and some are downright awful but the way he tells them  — committing himself fully into the ridiculousness of the punch line — makes Hinata chortle even as the others groan or shake their heads. Atsumu catches his eye after one particularly bad joke that still made him giggle and leans across the table.

“That’s it, Shouyou-kun is my new favourite player. He actually has a sense of humour unlike the rest of ya cretins.” he says and winks at Hinata. He’s so close that Hinata can smell the alcohol on his breath, and his eyes linger on the pink flush spreading over his new teammate’s face.

Looks like someone is starting to feel the effects of their little celebration. Hinata is beginning to feel tingly himself, his tolerance is pretty high and he takes another sip of his drink keeping his eyes locked on Atsumu.

He really is a stunning man, from the picture perfect hair, to his jaw, to that peak of his tongue during the match that was way more distracting than it should have been. If they weren’t recently confirmed teammates, Hinata would be tempted to do something about the chemistry crackling between them.

He knows he’s not the only one who feels it. Not with the way Atsumu watches him take a drink with half-lidded eyes and a different kind of hunger burning inside them.

He knows he shouldn’t, but he feels loose and high on the thrill of this success. He sets glass on the table and folds his arm on top of the table, craning his head forward so the scant space between him and Atsumu is shortened even more.

“And does that position come with any perks, Atsumu-san?” He rolls Atsumu’s name off his tongue and wants to smirk when Atsumu swallows and rubs a finger over the rim of his own drink.

“Asking for favours already, are ya? Yer a bold one, ain’t ya?” Atsumu raises an eyebrow and Hinata knows he isn’t imagining the way Atsumu’s voice drops low because it sends a shiver down his spin and slides over his skin like warm honey.

The conversations around them and the hubbub of the busy bar fade into a comforting background hum. “You were the one who called me your favourite, after all. And I’ve always been daring.”

Atsumu scoffs at that and lowers his head another increment. “Don’t need ta tell me that, I remember our games. Ya were a beast even back then, though a bit smaller and cuter.”

Well.

“Just a bit? And here I thought I’d changed quite a bit since high school. You certainly have,

Atsumu-san.” He purposefully drops his eyes to Atsumu’s arm, grateful that the man had opted for a plain black T-shirt under the jacket, so Hinata is free to admire what was on display.

The flush on Atsumu’s cheeks is no longer from the drinks, his ears have turned red as well, and Hinata gives his best come-get-me smile. He’d learned more than just volleyball skills while he was away.

“Ahhh…” Atsumu gulps and Hinata feels a stab of confusion. Surely he must be used to being admired and flirted with, right? 

“Hey! Hey! Hey! What are you two talking about? Seem to be getting pretty cozy back there.” Atsumu jerks back as Bokuto’s voice cuts through their private bubble, and the rest of the world shifts back into focus. 

Biting back a groan Hinata lifts his drink and grins at Bokuto. “Nothing important, Bokuto-san. I was asking Atsumu-san about your last match that’s all.” Atsumu whips his head to face him with wide eyes and mouth slightly agape. “That was an amazing cross at the end.”

Bokuto latches on to the topic with glee and Tomas lets out a little sigh at escaping a have-you-heard-about-my-amazing-boyfriend-Akaashi-Keji rant which Hinata has been informed happen fairly frequently. Hinata lets himself be pulled into Bokuto’s flow, he doesn’t even need to fake it, he’s genuinely interested in the team and their current performance. He had chosen them because they were the first V.League Division 1 team holding tryouts  — and that weren’t the Schweiden Adlers — and had only done a little bit of research after signing up.

And yet when he risks a glance back in Atsumu’s direction he catches Atsumu looking back, and for a moment they’re back on the court. That connection flaring to life with a thunderous crash, and suddenly it was like he could read Atsumu’s thoughts.

It’s a bad idea.

It’s such a bad idea.

He excuses himself to go to the toilet and stands up from the table. Hopefully this encounter will be more fortunate than others.

The sound of running water as he washes his hands isn’t enough to drown out the noise of the door swinging open. He finishes washing his hands — he gets the feeling if he doesn’t do it properly, Sakusa would somehow know —  and looks up.

“Atsumu-san.”

Atsumu steps forward. He’s chewing his lip, and Hinata zeroes in on the motion. What is it with Atsumu and his mouth? Hinata’s going to have to learn to deal with it if he doesn’t want to look like an idiot during practice.

“Ya know Shou-kun, it almost felt like ya were flirtin’ with me out there.” Atsumu says, forcing a grin like he’s expecting Hinata to laugh it off or dismiss it as foolish. He’s nervous. It’s cute.

Hinata hums and turns the tap off. He walks towards the hand dryers moving closer to Atsumu as he does. The dryer whirs into life, and he pretends to think as he waits for his hands to warm. Atsumu doesn’t move and doesn’t take his eyes off Hinata. It feels great to be the focus of his attention, addictive too.

“Really? That’s a shame, I thought I was being fairly obvious about it,” he says casually before turning to face Atsumu. 

“O-Oh?”

Hinata takes a step forward bringing himself right into Atsumu’s personal bubble. He doesn’t look like he’s going to complain, so Hinata moves closer. He has to look up to meet Atsumu’s gaze which is a little annoying but also a pleasant reminder of how big the other is, and he’s had a thing for tall guys since high school. Feeling daring he reaches up a hand to trace a finger along Atsumu’s cheek.

“Are you okay, Atsumu-san? You’re looking a little red there. I hope you aren’t coming down with anything, looking after yourself is important.” he teases and this seems to get through because the next thing he hears is a low rumble, and Atsumu is kissing him.

Hinata groans and reaches up to pull Atsumu down to kiss him harder. The kiss is sloppy and filthy. He opens his mouth and lets out a sigh as Atsumu pushes him back against the wall in a single, fluid motion. He sucks on Atsumu’s tongue like he’s wanted to since the last day of tryouts and tugs on his hair when Atsumu sinks his teeth into his bottom lip.

Air is an unfortunate necessity, and they part with a wet pop. Both of them panting for breath, Hinata’s hands gripping short blonde strands of hair and Atsumu’s sliding lower and lower down Hinata’s back.

The world seems to spin into a dizzy blur, and Atsumu was the only solid thing. Hinata clings to him tightly and pulls him in for another kiss.

The second is no better than the first. Hot and wet and Hinata feels like a livewire about to explode. Atsumu tastes of beer and rice, and he chases after it hungrily. His skin feels too warm, and if Atsumu’s hands don’t move further down to his ass, they’re going to have problems.

It’s been a long time since he’s felt like this.

Was it because of how good they were on the court together? Did setter-spiker chemistry equal attraction? Jury was out on that one because you had Bokuto and Akaashi as a very positive yes, but that seemed to be an exception that proves the rule.

It had never been like this between him and Kageyama or Heitor.

Atsumu squeezes his waist, and Hinata breaks away. He takes in Atsumu’s face, flushed and thoroughly kissed, and wants to ruin him.

“Why’d you stop,” he slurs, eager to get his mouth back on any part of the man in front of him: his mouth, his neck, his chest, his thighs. Hinata isn’t picky.

Atsumu looks down at him with wide hooded eyes that burn. He looks torn between resuming the bone meltingly good kissing or talking, and Hinata dearly wants the latter to win. He strokes one hand through Atsumu’s hair and relishes in the way he has to close his eyes and bite back a sigh at the feeling. Hinata leans up to place a soft kiss under Atsumu’s jaw and then a second one on his throat as Atsumu swallows thickly.

“Do you not like this?” He asks breathily and places a third kiss on Atsumu’s pulse that is racing a mile a minute under his mouth. He can feel exactly  _ how _ much Atsumu likes this with how close their hips are pressed together, but what the body says and the mind wants can be at odds and he doesn’t want to do anything that Atsumu doesn’t want.

He pauses and waits for Atsumu to take a breath.

“Look I —”

Footsteps echo from the corridor outside and they both freeze. If it’s a stranger, a little embarrassing but not too bad, but if it’s a teammate...Atsumu dashes into one of the stalls and Hinata runs to splash water over his face. The water hits his skin as the door opens, and Sakusa walks in. Hinata ducks his head down and scrubs his face to try and hide the signs of a spine tinglingly good make out session with his new setter.

He dashes out before Sakusa can speak to him and once the door shuts behind him he leans back against the hallway wall and lets out a deep breath.

Maybe he’d drunk more than he’d thought. He can taste Atsumu on his tongue, and when he closes his eyes he can see Atsumu’s face after Hinata kissed him stupid. 

Has he made a mistake? What was Atsumu going to say before they were interrupted? Part of him wants to go back in and ask but that would be ridiculously suspicious. Instead he tries to focus himself and calm the pounding of his heart before heading back to the table. He slides into his seat with a grin and joins in Bokuto’s retelling of how they met.

When Atsumu and Sakusa return — rather oddly at the same time — Atsumu shoots him a smile and easily joins the conversation. He looks...fine, any trace of their previous activity washed away and Hinata curses himself for the pang of disappointment at that realisation.

The heated looks don’t return for the rest of the evening and Atsumu leaves in the opposite direction to Hinata.

As he glances at Atsumu’s retreating back, he hopes he hasn’t destroyed what was looking to be an incredible partnership.

* * *

A few weeks into his time as a member of the Black Jackals, Hinata can safely say he’s beginning to feel like he fits into the team. It took some adjustment, of course, and he’s not worked on a schedule set by anyone but himself for the past three years, but he’s dedicated and determined to do his best.

He’s found a flat to rent and had plenty of help with the move in, he’s had about twenty different recommendations for things to see and do in the city, and while he’s not a smooth cog in the machine of the team yet, it’s getting easier every day.

It’s all going really well, so well that sometimes he’ll stop to think about what he’s achieved and where he is and choke back a couple of tears. He’s a long way from the kid who stopped outside a shop on his bike and watched the Little Giant fly, but in many ways he is the same. His love for volleyball, his work ethic, his desire to stay on the court for longer than anyone are all still there, and he eagerly awaits the day he can take part in an official match. 

Quite a leap there, from high school tournament to V.League Division 1 game, but he’s always been good at jumping even when he couldn’t do anything else.

The team is adjusting to him as well, not only the starters but the bench players and substitutes as well. He has the day Sakusa finally called him something other than ‘Mr. Fever’ marked on his calendar. He likes the wing spiker and they’ve banded together as the two newbies on the team as warm-up partners.

The others seemed surprised at his choice in partner, but Hinata finds Sakusa refreshingly honest and helpful. Sure, he can be a bit blunt at times, but Hinata played on the same team as Tsukishima Kei and Kageyama Tobio for three years so he can handle blunt.

Playing on the same team as Bokuto feels a little like a childhood dream coming true. It reminds him of those brief moments in his first year during training camp when he played alongside him and Akaashi. If someone was to ask him what an ace of a volleyball team should be like, he’d point to Bokuto. 

As for Atsumu...well, things are going great. A couple of weeks in and Hinata is confident enough to call them friends. Familiarity has erased any lingering feelings of unease about the boy turned man who loomed large in his memory as the number one setter in high school; a title that Kageyama had only managed to seize after Atsumu had graduated, already signed for a top professional team.

They get along spectacularly, things clicking between them with ease both on and off the court. The more he got to know Atsumu the more he liked him; he was friendly, smart, surprisingly kind, encouraging, and he was the most giving setter that Hinata had ever played with.

Hinata wanted a quick? Bam, there it was.

Hinata wanted to try hitting a higher toss? No problem.

Hinata wanted to practice a back attack? The ball was there for him.

Atsumu was  _ dedicated _ to his spikers, and Hinata found himself wanting to repay that loyalty tenfold by getting the point with the toss that he’d been trusted with.

Of course, they had to try the freak quick to. Hinata had been reluctant at first, worried that he’d be once again pigeon holed as a one trick pony, but Atsumu had been insistent.

_ “I want ya to be the most effective spiker ya can be Shouyou, think of it as just another weapon in yer arsenal. Besides anyone who’s played against ya can see yer not the same player as ya were back then.” Atsumu grins and leans forward. _

_ Hinata forcefully pushes down the memory of the last time Atsumu bent down like that for him and listens closely to the next words. _

_ “Dontcha wanna see the look on everyone’s faces when they realise it wasn’t Tobio pulling off that quick but you? He’s not managed it with anyone else, if ya can do it with me that means it's more yers than his, right?” _

_ It was strange to hear it put like that. For years, Hinata had been convinced, and told, that the quick was the reason he stood on the court. Even in third year, those whispers had plagued him and they never failed to make him grit his teeth. _

_ He was there because Kagyama was there, because Kageyama could send him the quick. _

_ “I can think of no better way for ya to enter the scene then showing them all that the ‘freak quick’ doesn’t belong to the genius setter who sent the toss but the spiker with the guts and ability ta hit it,” Atsumu says earnestly. _

_ A weight settles over Hinata’s shoulder. He wants to prove Atsumu’s belief in him true, and he wonders if hitting that quick with Atsumu would let him regain some of those positive feelings when it came to the quick before it became a cage that he couldn’t quite escape from. _

_ He nods and pumps his fist. “Okay Atsumu-san, let’s do this.” _

_ Atsumu beams, and Hinata’s breath catches in his throat. It’s so warm that for a moment it feels like the sun has entered the room. _

_ They start to work on the quick, and it doesn’t feel anything like high school. _

It’s not there yet, but Hinata is confident in a couple of weeks they’ll have nailed it. It isn’t something they can really practice during normal training sessions because Atsumu is the primary setter for the team and he needs to work with everyone, but mainly the starting lineup. HInata hasn’t earned a spot there yet, and he mainly works with the team’s second setter Nakamura Kaito. Nakamura is a good setter, calm and capable, who is easily able to adjust to the flow of the game and make snap decisions.

He’s not as good as Atsumu though, and the connection isn’t the same. Hitting Nakamura’s tosses feels good, hitting Atsumu’s tosses makes Hinata feel free.

They stay late after training for their own practice at least two or three times a week. Never for more than an hour because Hinata has learned his lesson well on looking after his body, and both of them are aware of how easily things can go wrong in sports. 

Those hours become a highlight of Hinata’s week, when it’s just him and Atsumu alone in that massive space spiking ball after ball. At times he doesn’t know if he’s pulling Atsumu along with him or trying to keep up. But perhaps that’s what a partnership should feel like? Neither one pulling ahead but both pushing the other one.

Kageyama’s back was a sight he was well used to in high school, always ten or eleven steps behind trying desperately to catch up even as Kageyama kept moving forward himself. Hinata won’t know if he’s closed the gap until they play one another, and he’s impatient for that day to arrive.

With Atsumu he looks to the side and he’s there, grinning, clicking his tongue in frustration at a non-perfect toss, running a hand through his hair, or cheering as they slowly edge their way to reclaiming the ‘freak quick’ for their own use.

If he wasn’t careful, Hinata is sure that he could spend a whole evening in that gym with just him and Atsumu spiking ball after ball. He hopes Atsumu feels the same, the setter was the one to suggest these little one-on-one sessions after all, and he never looks any less eager to step back onto the court.

They’re friends, Hinata really likes Atsumu so it’s all good, right?

Not quite.

Atsumu never brings up their kiss — okay, fine it was a little more than that — and Hinata doesn’t know if he should or not.

The day after that night out Atsumu greets him with the rest of the team in the morning and Hinata is too busy taking in everything about his new routine to get a moment to talk to him. For those first two weeks, he can’t grab Atsumu alone and the other never approaches him to talk about it either.

It doesn’t seem to have had any negative consequences which Hinata is grateful for, but he’s not sure where they stand.

Should he apologise? 

Is Atsumu waiting for him to bring it up?

Is he worried Hinata is going to try and jump him again?

He never did get a clear answer before they were interrupted in the bathroom after all.

When Atsumu suggests the solo practice sessions a part of him is relieved that the other man is fine with being alone with him, and he wonders if this is his chance to talk about it. Except they get so swept up in practicing, that connection between them sparking and crackling and so addictive Hinata can’t resist, that he forgets to say anything.

The more time passes the more awkward it feels to bring it up, like picking at a scab after it’s healed. Atsumu is clearly okay with it not being mentioned, and Hinata doesn’t want to rock the boat when he’s still the new guy. He chalks it up to two tipsy men and a moment of weakness — along with a truck load of sexual tension and attraction but he does his best not to think about that — and settles into his position as Atsumu’s friend.

Which is fine.

And yet....that moment of weakness won’t let go of his memory, there are flashes of it in his dreams and on the court when Atsumu gets particularly close to him and Hinata wants to reach up, pull him down and see what other sounds he can drag from the man’s mouth.

He ignores those moments for the most part, especially now that they’re friends and official teammates.

But sometimes he’ll look across at Atsumu and catch Atsumu looking back, and the spark is still there.

Sometimes Hinata wonders if he could risk another moment of weakness. 

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is a little gift fic for two friends that sort of spiraled out of control. It's a little different to what I usually do but I wanted to push myself. It got a little longer than planned so I've split into two. I hope you enjoy.
> 
> To Rose & Vane thank you both so much for your support in my writing, I hope you like your gift! Extra thank you to Vane who also Beta Read this for me as [vanellabeann11](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanellabeannn11/pseuds/vanellabeannn11).


End file.
